


Twinkle, twinkle, won't you die?

by Miklanj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Dumbledore Bashing, Evil Dumbledore, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophecy, Time Travel, Veil of Death (Harry Potter), Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miklanj/pseuds/Miklanj
Summary: A prophecy. Going trough the Veil to be with Sirius again. A twinkle that won't die. Puppet Potter is no longer. Or Harry is again subjected to Fate's will but that might be a good thing for once. (Time-travel, Marauders' era, 6th year)





	1. Going through the Veil

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer : J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, I do not own Harry Potter, therefore, I'm not J.K Rowling. The main pairing is gay. Don't like, don't read.
> 
> Summary : A prophecy. Going trough the Veil to be with Sirius again. A twinkle that won't die. Puppet Potter is no longer.
> 
> English is not my first language. I proofread myself but mistakes can slip through and I apologize in advance if that's the case.
> 
> I'll be publishing every two-weeks on Saturday, hope to see you there

Harry was standing in front of the archway. The same archway his godfather had disappeared through that night on his 5th year at Hogwarts. He could still see him. Mistaking him for James but proud nonetheless, a cheeky grin stuck on his face as he was battling Death Eaters with ease. And this moment where the green light had been rushing towards him. His look of surprise and then his empty eyes as he was falling through the Veil. And then nothing. Nothing at all. No goodbyes, no body to mourn, no time for it either. Nothing. Just this cold emptiness that seemed to have taken permanent residency in his body. Everything was a blur after that. He had been possessed by Voldemort who had brought back his worst memories. It was like having a dementor inside of his head really. So he had conjured all his good memories, fighting him with happiness and love as hippy as it could sound. He had won this battle but he had lost everything else. As Voldemort retreated, the cold emptiness inside him didn't. It was a stain and he knew there was no getting rid of it. He thought he had with Ginny. Ginny. He felt anger rising and filling his whole body, its heat washing over the ever-persisting cold. He thought he had been in love with her. How could he have been? He was mourning, having nightmares and crying silently in his bed every night. How could he have possibly thought he had noticed her. How he hated the girl that had wanted to manipulate him. How he hated everyone for constantly trying to tie strings to him to make him a puppet. To them, all he was was a convenience. A boy with money, a title, power, and kindness. A boy to use and then to dispose of. He remembered when Slughorn had introduced them to Amortentia. The smell emanating from the cauldron. Leather and gunpowder, petrichor and a little bit of musk. How he had silently wanted to bury his nose into the cauldron. It had nothing in common with Ginny's scent. She smelled of broom polish, butterbeer and the distinct smell of what he associated with the Burrow. He loathed that smell he had been forced to breathe in as if his life depended on it as if it was his oxygen. Because it wasn't. It was a trick.

"This book is dangerous Harry," he remembered her saying. And yes it was, but this was not the reason why she pushed him to get rid of it. It was to get her hands on it. It was for the page 64. The recipe of Amortentia. The half-blood-prince, Snape, had annotated the page thoroughly and you could sense the longing in the writing. It had been too easy on Ginny. Brewing the potion was a child's play with the Potion Master's instructions adding to her eagerness to make Harry fall in love with her. For a while, he couldn't pinpoint when she could have given him the potion. He was careful to check for potions that year, as Romilda Vane had already tried to trick him into a potion-induced love state.

And then it struck him, the horror of it and its poetry. Their first kiss had been when. He could remember how she attacked his lips in the Room of Requirement and how he had loathed it and her gloss. It was in the gloss. He remembered now how it had smelled exactly like in Slughorn's classroom for a second. But then his mind had been crowded with fake feelings and happiness trying unsuccessfully to hide the cold from him. And it was what had saved him in the end. This cold he had loathed for so long. this emptiness. It had told him that whatever he was using to fill the void was not the right piece, the right shape. It didn't belong there. And he had been split for awhile. His head telling him the redhead was the one he loved while his heart. his whole body even was fighting the invasion. He was grateful for this void inside him or else he would have been doomed. He remembered the bitch's frown when he had refused to sleep with her. He remembered the hushed conversation she had had with Hermione in the comfort of the Common Room and how Ron had tried to talk him into it. He had tried to talk him into sleeping with her sister for Merlin's sake. And then somehow, something had snapped in him. He had broken free of the influence of the potion the same way he had fought the fake Moody's Imperius curse back in year four. It had been more difficult this time around because it was coming from inside of him. It was not like an external attack, no, this was far more insidious. And then it was like he had broken free from more than the potion. He could see it all now. The manipulation of Dumbledore. How he had been forced to go back to the Dursleys every summer even when Sirius had a perfectly suitable house under the Fidelius Charm. How Dumbledore had not intervened in favor of Sirius when he had been arrested back in eighty-one. Damn, the old fool was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and he hadn't even flinched at the lack of a trial for his former student, a former member of the Order of the Phoenix. He even had defended Snape who had actually took the dark mark back then. But he understood now. What a better way to ensure Harry would look up to him than to rescue him from an abusing home and endorsing the role of a benevolent grandfather. If Harry had lived with Sirius, there would have been nothing to save him from, no way to have such a malleable boy at his disposal. He would have been cared for and confident and as powerful as he should have been. But Dumbledore had been a master in crafting his plan. He had cut Harry from the wizarding world, ignoring his parents' will and left him with muggles he knew abhorred everything that was remotely out of the normal range. Then he had had Hagrid to show Harry around. Hagrid! Harry loved the groundskeeper but he was nowhere capable enough to introduce him to the wizarding world. The semi-giant regarded magic with as much awe as him. He had certainly introduced him to his foe early on, but not to his heritage. He had not told him about what being a Potter meant. It meant being the Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House Potter, having a seat in the Wizengamot, political power. How he had raged when he had learnt that Dumbledore had been the proxy for the House Potter in Wizengamot sessions. It meant being the owner of multiple vaults and not just his trust fund. And it meant manors with real bedrooms he could have lived in instead of a cupboard under the stairs.

Then he had conveniently met the Weasleys. And in his young mind, they had been a lifesaver, the embodiment of goodness. Add to that having Molly Weasley as a first mother figure and he was done for. He held everything they told him to be true, especially the anti-Slytherin propaganda that had been comforted by his encounter with Draco Malfoy. His fate had been sealed right then on the station and somewhere, blue eyes had twinkled.

The truth was that Dumbledore was paying the Weasleys with gold taken from his vault and the worst was that the family knew it. That was the reason why Ron had befriended him and why Ginny had wanted to become his love interest. Of course, not all of the family was bad. He was sure, Bill, Charlie, and the twins hadn't known. He couldn't be sure as he hadn't confronted anyone about it. He had had to think like a Slytherin to tackle this treason. Gryffindorish behavior wouldn't have done any good. He had secured his vaults and assets at Gringotts. Since he was of age, Dumbledore was not his guardian anymore but he hadn't been barred from withdrawing from his vaults. It had to be changed. He kind of had emptied his trust fund. He had put all the gold it contained into the pouch he had stolen to Hermione. He had put some charms on it to change its horrendous appearance and he was wearing it, shrunken. around his neck.

He thought about Hermione. She had also been a deception. She had been Dumbledore's spy from day one, making sure that all was going accordingly with the old fool's plans. All of this for what? Private tutors to stay ahead of her peers and a bloody note to be able to access the Restricted Section of the library. Harry could feel his blood boil.

He had also shrunk his school trunk and had put it in the now leather pouch as well. For the Potter's and Black's seat in Wizengamot, he left instruction that they should remain dormant and in no way be at Dumbledore's disposal. He was rather proud of himself on this. He thought again about his meeting at Gringott's. He couldn't understand why wizards despised goblins so much. They hadn't been anything if helpful to him. Patient despite his lack of knowledge, understanding and even upset on his behalf. They had talked him through all the procedures and they had also given the very reason to stand before the Veil. A prophecy. Again.

It made sense when he thought about it. That goblins were notified when prophecies involved their clients. If not, how wizards were supposed to know there even was a prophecy about them? Were they supposed to wander in the Department of Mysteries until, by luck, they stumbled across their name? How he was kept in the dark about the Wizarding World angered him even more.

He had asked his newly appointed account manager, Blordak if it was possible for Gringotts to have the prophecy be sent there—as he would rather not go back to the Hall of Prophecy—and the next day, he was listening to it, sitting alone in one of Gringotts' many offices.

_The one who was cursed to bear, a stranger's soul for sixteen years._

_Shall to the one who could not die, for the last time Death be denied,_

_For the one whose name is dark shall bring him light once through the arc._

_The one who was cursed to bear, a stranger's soul for sixteen years,_

_Shall be, when no allies remain, reunited with Death's omen._

He had thought about it a lot. That led him to the Veil through which Sirius had disappeared two years ago. " _The one whose name is dark_ " must have been referring to his godfather's family name and " _Death's omen_ " to the man's Animagus form, the Grim. If he understood correctly, he needed to go through the Veil to be reunited with Sirius but he wouldn't die because " _for the last time Death should be denied_ " to him. Well, he felt rather flattered to be granted so many last chances. The number of times he died but not really would be ridiculous by now. But what was waiting for him on the other side? If not Death, how was he supposed to see his godfather again? Did he care? After all, the prophecy was right to say that he had no allies left. The people he considered to be his family had all betrayed him. Since he vanquished Voldemort, everyone was seeing him as a tool to gain power, or money, or fame. He had nothing left to lose. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel the void inside him be drawn towards the Veil. As if a magnet was pulling him from the other side. Merlin, he was definitely suicidal, he thought.

His hands went to his neck and his fingers brushed lightly over the soft leather of his pouch. He had everything prepared. Even if he was now hesitating to go through with his resolution, he had consciously cut himself completely from his life before coming. He opened his eyes and there was now a flicker of determination in the green orbs. The best moments of his life, if not spent with the traitors had been the short ones he got to spend with Sirius. He let his memories of the man flow through him, feeding the void and the pull in his stomach and with a sharp breath, he crossed the Veil.

Cold ran through him but it didn't bother him as he had been living with the cold for quite the time now. The whispers he could hear when standing next to the Veil were now screams and he squeezed his eyes shut as if it could dim the painfully loud voices in his head. He felt hands, he thought, trying to grab him. He shuddered as what felt like fingers brushed against the nape of his neck. When he thought it couldn't be worse, a stench assaulted his nose, menacing to make him throw up. And then as fast as it came, it stopped. In a second, everything stopped. Only remained a warm breeze against his face, and he could feel what seemed to be grass tickling his ears. He dared to open an eye and was faced with the sky and its million stars. He was laying on his back and stayed in this position for a few minute, catching his breath, before sitting up. He took his surroundings into sight and it was all too familiar. He was on the grass, a few meters from the Black Lake, in Hogwarts. What was he doing here? He was supposed to get Sirius back. It was supposed to be good for once. Going through the Veil to land on Hogwarts' ground was rather anticlimactic. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks and choked back a sob. He was supposed to see Sirius, he kept repeating himself while rocking back and forth, now crying openly. The pain, the deception was too strong and he didn't know if he would ever be able to bury it all in once more. He didn't know if he could keep going. A pained moan escaped his lips and he felt his body shake with sorrow. A growl resonated through the night and he was sure it wasn't his own. In a second, he was on his feet, wand in hand, with tear-stained cheeks and that's when he saw it.

A seemingly very angry werewolf.


	2. Dancing with the wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry knows where he landed, but he doesn't know when, yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Harry walked into the Veil after a new prophecy was made about him. Thinking he would be reunited with Sirius, he was disappointed when he realized he only reappeared in Hogwarts. That's when a werewolf appeared.

He was running like he never ran before. The grass was zooming under his body as fast as could be. He could feel the ache in his muscles but the adrenaline had quickly taken over. He didn’t know how it could have escalated that quickly. Merely minutes ago they were all playing joyfully with Moony in the Forbidden Forest when the wolf had gone stiff, sniffed the air and ran away. It had never happened before. Sure, it wasn’t the first time a student had broken the curfew but never before they hadn’t been able to contain their friend. Usually, Remus would take notice of the scent and then would resume their playing. It hadn’t occurred to Sirius that this time could be different. And now he was running. He could hear Prongs running alongside with him and assumed Wormtail was on his back. He didn’t have Moony’s nose but he could smell it now. The stranger’s scent. It was new but yet familiar, maybe someone he had passed by in the hallway and whose scent he had unconsciously memorized. He could smell Moony too, the two scents were close. Too close.

Harry froze. The prophecy had said he wouldn’t die going through the Veil but as usual, Fate was a bitch and a werewolf was waiting for him on the other side. It was a growl that interrupted his trail of thoughts. He turned back his attention to the werewolf, mentally berating himself for letting himself be distracted. He seemed angry but not at him. He was sniffing the air as if looking for something. The creature’s eyes were not on him but scrutinizing the surroundings with a surprising glint of intelligence. Harry was not scared and that was what scared him. The creature looked familiar and rather protective but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. His hand went to his pocket to retrieve his wand. The Elder Wand. Dumbledore had been foolish. He had let himself be disarmed by Draco Malfoy back in sixth-year and never the thought had occurred to him to claim the wand back. The man, like many others, thought that only the death of the owner of the wand would change its loyalty. He was wrong and when Harry had disarmed the blond while at his Manor, the allegiance of the wand had changed once more. During the Hogwarts Battle, it had just appeared in his hand, ready to be used by his true master. And then he had the three hollows. How Dumbledore managed to survive without his wand wasn’t a surprise. The old fool had not even participated in the battle. Of course, the player never risks his life on the chessboard. He had gone into hiding— pointing his old age— with the former minister Cornelius Fudge. His age. Minerva McGonagall had fought, fourth-year students had fought for crying out loud. No, the man was just a coward expecting everyone to fawn over the ‘Leader of the Light’ and his strategist’s talents. Well, it didn’t happen, in fact, many people blamed him for hiding from the fight when he had been the one to call people out for not playing their part in the war. And Cornelius Fudge, he and Dumbledore may be the best frenemies ever. Plotting together for power while also being suspicious of each other’s and Harry’s greed. The boy-who-lived had no desire for power and the very nature of the two men could not comprehend it. Harry tightened his grip on his wand. He would not let himself be killed because of a friendly-looking werewolf. He was about to make a move to escape when he heard a sound coming his way. Someone or something was coming towards him and fast. Worse, they were running towards a werewolf. The latter had raised its head to sniff the air and had placed itself in front of Harry as if trying to protect him from whoever was approaching. The green-eyed boy could only stare at the back of his protector in disbelief. This was not a normal behavior. Werewolves only protected those who were part of their pack. He had never met the werewolf, he couldn’t have possibly been. The only werewolf he knew was… ‘no this can’t be,’ he thought ‘he’s dead, this can’t be him’. Remus had lost his life during the Battle of Hogwarts along with his wife leaving their son in the custody of his grandmother. It had hurt when he had not be given custody because of his young age but Andromeda had promised him he could see his godson whenever he wanted. The werewolf growled, startling Harry, but once more this wasn’t directed towards him. He tried to take a peek at whatever it was that had approached but his protector was blocking the view. A bark resonated through the night and the teen froze. A snarl escaped the wolf’s throat but it died quickly. Apparently whoever it was wasn’t considered a threat by his protector. The latter finally moved deeming it safe and Harry could only stare in shock. A stag and a dog were staring right back at him. ‘This isn’t possible. This isn’t happening. This isn’t possible’ he kept repeating to himself mentally. Soon enough, he realized what was happening and shock took over. His vision blurred more and more until only darkness surrounded him as he fell unconscious. 

Sirius could only watch helplessly as the boy fell to the ground. He had only caught a glimpse of the lad but he could tell he hadn't seen him before. He watched carefully as Remus went back to growling toward them again, holding them responsible for the boy's predicament. The wolf nuzzled one of the wizard's hand, whining. The animagus just stared, shocked. Never had Remus acted this way with someone. That was the reason he wasn't transforming to help the boy. Even if they were the werewolf's friends, came the moon and none of it mattered. Under its influence, the young boy was merely a beast. Even if Sirius wanted to believe that there was some part of the wolf's brain that remembered them, he knew it was unlikely. If he were to change back to human, he would be attacked immediately. But for an unknown reason, this stranger was under his friend's wolf protection. When they—his friends for six years now—were still not accepted in their human forms. It was rather startling to see his friend act like that. He had even growled menacingly at them for crying out loud. The dog looked at the stag and could see him deep in thoughts, something unseen before in an animal's face. Remus was still trying to get a reaction from the lad, shielding him with his body. Padfoot took a couple of careful steps, letting the wolf take notice of his approach. When no violent reaction came, he closed the distance between them and nuzzled the werewolf's arm. He took a look at the boy and his breath hitched. If he didn't know better, he would have said it was James. There were some difference if you cared to look for them but they were minimal, the block could easily be mistaken for James by an untrained eye. The animagus looked at Moony with pleading eyes, trying to convey the thought that he only wanted to help. He was surprised when he saw a flicker of understanding in the amber eyes accompanied by a couple of steps back. Now that his friend was not breathing down his neck, Sirius could do something. Feeling his inner Gryffindor woking up, he took a deep breath before doing the most foolish thing he had ever made. He changed back. He watched the wolf for a reaction but there was none. He hadn't moved, he was only watching him curiously. Never leaving the werewolf from his sight, Sirius squatted down. Slowly, he extended an arm to reach for the boy and was relieved when Moony allowed him to do so. He pulled the raven-haired boy towards him and with his eyes still locked with the wolf, he got back up with the boy in his arms, his knees shaking from the weight.  
"Prongs, I would really appreciate if you could keep Moony occupied while I retreat to the castle. I'm not really in the mood for turning my back to an over-protective werewolf or for running for that matter," Sirius said slowly but firmly.  
With a glance, he could see the stag nodded and his friend took a couple of steps towards the wolf which didn't even react, eyes fixed on his cub. When Sirius deemed that James could hinder any of Remus' attacks, he took a couple of steps back. But his friend didn't seem upset if anything he looked kind of grateful. Now convinced that he wouldn't do anything to prevent him from leaving with the boy, Sirius turned his back to werewolf and walked calmly towards the castle. He winced when he realized that the lad needed to go to the Hospital Wing and that he would have to explain to the matron the reason for him being out of his dorm long after curfew.

Finally, after climbing a ridiculous number of stairs and feeling literally every muscle in his body, he was there. Building the courage to enter, he was shocked to see the double door flew open. Poppy Pomfrey came through them, looking alert. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and she snorted before dryly answering his quiet question.  
"Some people don't make it to the doors and some other need the choice of coming in out of their hands, Mr. Black."  
Sirius nodded, uncertain about what to say. He stared blankly at the matron for a few seconds because snapping out of his trance.  
"Well, Mr. Black, could I examine my patient now?" she curtly asked.  
"Uh? Oh y-yeah, s-sorry," he stammered "Found him on the grounds, I have no idea of who he might be and I'm not even sure he's a student here. I think he only fainted though." he added quickly.  
She answered with a non-committal noise rushing him to put her patient on one of the empty bed.  
"And what might you be doing at this hour, outside after curfew, when you found him?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.  
He knew there was no way to bullshit his way out of this so he decided to play the role of the stupid teenager he supposedly was.  
"I was just walking, I couldn't sleep. I was pacing in the dorms at first but James threatened to hex me if I didn't snap out of it. I'd rather serve detention than to find myself at the wrong end of James Potter's wand," he replied smoothly, trying to look remorseful.  
The best way to lie was, to tell the truth. His pacing wasn't something uncommon in the sixth-year boy dorm and he was sincere when he said he wouldn't want to land in his friend's bad graces.  
She nodded her understanding and he flashed a bright smile at her to which she responded with a severe glance.  
"Don't think your Head of House won't be informed, Mr. Black, you're smarter than that."  
Sirius smile faltered. He knew his chivalry wouldn't be rewarded, even by the Head of the House of Godric Gryffindor. He was glad enough she hadn't sent him to bed, he wasn't quite ready to let go of the mystery that was the boy. He watched silently and almost reverently as the matron performed diagnostic spells on her patient. She was muttering to herself while moving her wand in intricate patterns. Multiple times her eyes widened as she continued to examine the boy on the bed. Sirius had been convinced the state of the boy was not worrisome— after all, fainting after coming face to face with a werewolf was a normal reaction— but the look on the matron's face told him that there was more to the story than a big fright. More and more unnerved by the matron's facial expressions, the teen couldn't help but ask.  
"What is it? What happened to him? Is he gonna be okay?"  
"Mr. Black, I think it's in your best interest to get back to your dorms, you might be able to catch some sleep before classes. As you're not family, I can't answer any of your question about the boy's health and therefore there's no point in you waiting here," she answered him firmly, but not rudely.  
He opened his mouth to protest but quickly snapped it shut knowing who he was trying to argue with. He merely nodded, squeezed the boy's hand and took his leave. Before he could reach the door, the matron called his name.  
"Mr. Black?"  
He stopped to look at her.  
"I would like for you to look out for him once he'll be better. Merlin knows what the boy has been through but it was surely not easy. I think he could use someone who understands," she said softly, a sad smile on the lips.  
Sirius froze, stunned. Poppy was the one to thank for his almost scar-free body. Since year one, she had been the one to heal the remaining traces of his mother's love. It might don't show at first glance but he knew she cared for him. And he knew she wouldn't bring his home life up if it wasn't important. It made his heart clench as he looked at the boy, lying pale on the hospital bed. If he had been through what himself had been through, he could only empathize. Seeing she was expecting an answer he merely nodded with a sad smile of his own.  
Once in his bed, the animagus brought his sheets up to his nose, trying to find warmth and comfort but his mind wouldn't stop going back to the boy in the Hospital Wing.  
Who was he? Where was he from? What happened to him? And most importantly, why a werewolf acted against his instincts in order to protect him?  
His eyes closed and his thoughts turned into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Your thoughts, dear reader are very important to me. Would you care to share?


End file.
